The Choices We Make
by Theory G
Summary: While the Queens of Darkness rampage throughout Storybrooke, Rumpelstiltskin finds himself faced with the Author. Without clear intentions or any warning, the mysterious character shows the Dark One what his future could be, as long as he leaves his ambition behind. He could have both happiness and power - it all depends on the choices he makes.
1. Introduction

Introduction:

She sat on a simple pine chair in the middle of the forest, her legs crossed and blue peacoat waving above the golden leaves of fall that rolled with the breeze. She'd been waiting for him - or for someone, at least, but he'd been the only one to cross her path. He was sure of it.

Had anyone else, she'd be in town, being bombarded by the Charmings.

"Good afternoon," She greeted pleasantly.

She was young. She was beautiful. Perhaps an angel her figure was so divine. She had shoulder length, caramel colored hair and curious brown/blue eyes. Her full lips were a soft pink and round cheeks blushed. She wore a charming purple blouse that tucked into her skinny jeans that disappeared into her black boots. A small golden heart hung around her neck.

He didn't know her.

"Who are you?"

She licked her lips. "I'm a lot of people. The more appropriate question, Rumpelstiltskin, is: What am I doing here?"

"How do you know my name?"

"You're the Dark One. Who doesn't? And that wasn't the question."

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to show you your options. A rare gift, but I see it as befitting. You've really screwed things up this round, darling." Her eyes glinted with knowledge.

His eyes went wide and all air escaped his body as he realized who was truly sitting before him.

"You're the Author."

She grinned deviously.

"But you're a girl."

"A young woman." She corrected sternly, standing. "You'd think you'd be a bit more grammatically correct after who you married."

His fists glowed with heat.

"Oh, pipe down, you big baby. You need to relax. Take a deep breath." She demonstrated. "Because if you think your life's hell now," She laughed, "The next couple of hours are gonna give you a run for your money."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to show you what you could have, Rumpelstiltskin. You were once a powerful clairvoyant, but you could only see the definite. Right at this moment, both your happiness and your power hangs in the balance."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that you can have both. You've spent your whole life thinking that you could only have one or another, and that is what has truly driven all who love you away."

"But I can't-"

"Your happiness will be your power. You'll see."

She snapped her fingers and everything disappeared.


	2. Aramis Baelfire Gold

Part One: Aramis Baelfire Gold

He remembered the night that their first child was conceived. When he'd found out, he knew there couldn't have been any other time than the day she'd come across the Snow Queen's mirror. After she'd lied to him, controlled him with his dagger (the fake one anyway), and then hurt him, she was completely broken. She'd collapsed in the shop, and he'd taken her home. But as soon as he'd closed the door behind them, he was surprised by her forwardness. She pressed her body against his, pouring every ounce of pain and empathy that she had into him through her hands and lips.

"I'm so sorry, Rumpel," She told him for the zillionth time.

To prove that he still loved her, that, if she thought she needed to be, she was forgiven, he returned her forwardness by pressing her against the wall and then carrying her up to their room. However many times she apologized that night, he'd told her about his undying love for her.

Everything had pretty much gone down hill after that, though.

After the Snow Queen, Ingrid, and during the campaign of the witches Ursula and Cruella De Vil was when things began to mend again, thanks to the common knowledge of the child growing in Belle's womb.

As Henry and his biological mother, Emma Swan, had come to learn, their world didn't always perceive villains and heroes correctly. Ursula, for all extent and purposes, was an evil sea witch as well as a scorned lover. She didn't like merpeople - or, more correctly, mermen. Cruella was, as well, an evil bitch, but an evil bitch with magic. And she didn't only enjoy Dalmatian puppies, she liked puppies of any kind. That is to say, she and Rumpelstiltskin had gotten drastically confused, and _she_ was the one who stole newborns.

The few around town - all princes and princesses - were apparently too old by the time that Cruella came to Storybrooke. Oh, but she had a knack for recognizing the unborn and their pregnant mothers. And what better a child to steal than that of the Dark One? Wouldn't that be epic irony at play.

It had been while Rumpelstiltskin and Belle weren't exactly on speaking terms that Cruella had gone after Belle, and it had been the librarian's luckiest day when her husband turned up and stopped any plan from happening. As his wife ran away, reality had dawned on Rumpelstiltskin and he wondered if she knew.

A day later, Belle wondered into the pawn shop, knowing full well he would be there.

"Belle." He'd sighed, sounding almost relieved. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Thank you for asking. And…thank you for…for saving me yesterday."

"Yes. Yes, of course. I'm just… I'm thankful I was there in time."

She gave a small smile to him.

"What can I do for you?" He rounded the display case and stood a few feet in front of her. He dare not push his boundaries and get too close only to have her leave. What a fool he'd been!

She shifted uncomfortably, fiddling with her fingers. "I… I have something to tell you, Rumpel."

His jaw went slack, but he prevented himself from gapping at her. His eyes darted to her middle, where his experienced eyes found the small golden flame of life warming her belly. The flame - their flame also danced with purple. It would be a magical child. A child of true love. He swallowed, trying to keep composed. "Yes?"

She took a step forward, her eyes down, then again and again until she was standing right in front of him. Belle took his hands, rubbing his knuckles gently with her soft finger tips. After a moment, she pulled them forward and laid them right over the light he saw. They stiffened - both he and the light - at the intrusion of each other's magic, but Belle remained the same. "I'm pregnant." She told him, looking at him directly in the eyes.

"Belle…" He gasped. He looked down at his hands and then back up to his wife. "Sweetheart." He hugged her; he hugged her as tightly as the day he'd returned from Neverland. When he pulled away, he asked, "Are you sure?"

She nodded. "I would never lie to you."

Her words were meant to hurt, and they did, but he did not turn away from her. He leaned in and kissed her forehead, aware that he was not privileged to her lips. He smiled. "Thank you for telling me."

"Why wouldn't I? You're their father after all."

His smile brightened and he chuckled. "Yes. After all."

* * *

It was a boy.

A boy.

Aramis Baelfire Gold was what they named him that day in the hospital.

Oh, gods, he was such a beautiful child! He wasn't small, as Rumpelstiltskin had expected for being a first born. He was long and strong. He gave a healthy wail the moment he entered the world, exampling his strong lungs. With further examination, he bore small wisps of brown hair and his eyes, though dark and what Belle presumed to be Rumpelstiltskin's brown (to which he replied with a snort) turned into a unique combination of what was indeed Rumpelstiltskin's brown and Belle's bright blue.

Nobody was there to welcome them when they came home. The town's opinion was that their child did not deserve the exceptional celebrations that the Charmings' or Aurora and Phillip's or Cinderella and her prince's children got when born. The Golds didn't mind. It was comforting to have calm and quiet as friends again after several weeks of business getting ready for the baby. While Belle sat down and fed Aramis, Rumpelstiltskin went to work in the kitchen to make lunch for the two of them who could eat solid food.

It was after lunch and after Belle had gone to take a nap at her husband's instance that someone knocked on the door. With Aramis snug in the crook of his arm, Rumpelstiltskin found his grandson, his adopted mother and what would probably end up being his step-father and step-brother on his porch, bearing smiles, welcome and gifts. Well, at least the boys did.

"I didn't think it was my place to come." Regina made sure the new father understood as she walked in behind her boys.

"It isn't." Rumpelstiltskin replied bluntly, remembering that her intervention into his and his wife's lives could have stripped them of each other and their son.

"Can I hold him, Grandpa?" Henry asked.

"Sure." Henry held out his arms welcomingly. "Oh, no, not quiet like that, Henry. Not just yet. Here, come sit down and I'll sit him down."

"I've held a baby before." Henry groaned, sitting down in a plush armchair, much to Rumpelstiltskin's satisfaction.

"And did you sit down?"

Henry rolled his eyes. "Yes."

"Right. Okay, now, watch his head." Rumpelstiltskin gently set down his son into his nephew's arms. Henry made sure to cradle his head in the palm of his hand until the baby laid in his arms. "Be sure not to let him roll into your chest. He has no control of his body. He's not strong like you and I." Henry wasn't ignorant, but he also knew that his grandfather was just being careful. It was a baby, after all, but it was also his child.

Roland ran up, his father right behind him, and kneeled in front of Henry, looking up at the newborn with awe. After a moment, his head flashed over to Rumpelstiltskin. "What's his name, Mr. Gold?"

"Aramis. His name's Aramis."

The little boy tried it out on his tongue and lips without a sound. They watched him repeat it over and over again, and when he could finally say it, he stood up and took Aramis's small hand in a few of his fingers. "Hello, Aramis." Then he patted the baby's head.

"Congratulations, Gold," Robin said, he reaching out and squeezing Rumpelstiltskin's shoulder.

The man nodded. "Thank you."

"I hope he likes the nursery." Henry said aloud.

Gold grinned. "Oh, I should say that he'll quiet enjoy it, Henry. Thank you very much again," He looked at his grandson, then at Roland, and then at Robin. "for helping me with it."

They all deserved his gratitude and beyond, though he would probably never saw anything more than his thanks. He'd attempted to paint and decorate Aramis's nursery all by himself, because he barely let Belle run the library while she was pregnant, but it had been in vain. Knowing that he needed help, Belle went in search for someone who would understand.

Hook wouldn't, not that she would ever trust that man in her house, and David was dealing with a baby of his own. Rumpelstiltskin had decided that he would not use magic, that their baby deserved more than just a quick wave of a hand (and Belle said that that was how he'd been in made in the first place.) Henry was the only one she could get and the only one Rumpel would allow to help him, but still the two of them could not do it all by themselves and nobody else would help the Dark One, even for good money.

She was managing the library when Roland came in for a book when Belle was hit with an epiphany.

"Of course!" Robin had exclaimed. "We'd be happy to, Belle."

"Well hello." Everyone turned around to see Belle descending the stairs, her damp hair pulled back and dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, the most casual the majority of them had ever seen her be, even whilst she was pregnant. She paused for a moment at the sight of Regina, the very same thought as Rumpelstiltskin's coming to mind, but eventually kept walking towards them all.

Rumpel met her at the threshold of the living room. "Sweetheart, I thought your were taking a nap."

"I was. I mean, I took a shower and then was going to take a nap, but by the time I'd laid down, I couldn't help but hear laughter and just had to see what I was missing."

Roland laughed at that, and Henry laughed in turn. Then right there, in his nephew's arms, surrounded by people he would grow up with and love, Aramis laughed for the first time too.

The guests watched as his parents' faces glowed at the sound and their lips stretch into the biggest grins one could ever see.

* * *

He grew. Oh, Aramis grew into the most beautiful of boys, so much like Bae.

In the beginning, once those daring similarities started to blossom, Rumpelstiltskin had thought he wouldn't be able to do it. That he wouldn't be strong enough, brave enough for his family again… But he couldn't loose another. Rumpelstiltskin _wouldn't_ loose another. He owed it to Bae's memory to raise his and Belle's son without guilt or bias.

Aramis wasn't Baelfire. He was his own person and Rumpelstiltskin loved him more than words could say for that.

He and Belle taught him how to walk together. They fed him; slept on the very edges of their own bed with him laid out in the middle between them so he wouldn't accidently be smothered while he slept. They taught him. Individually, they pressed him to say their names, "Mama…" or "Papa…" but the first word his boy ever uttered was "book".

Belle took that as her own personal victory.

Aramis absolutely adored his nephew, who would run him around the house, making him scream in happiness; who would hold him up in the air on the bottom of his feet, swirling him around and making him believe he was flying. When Henry babysat Aramis (because Rumpelstiltskin was finally successful in getting Belle out on a date after Aramis' first birthday and from then on, Henry was the only one who could babysit their boy) the young man always brought ice cream for them to enjoy together. They would play, and every once in awhile, get into trouble.

One time, Rumpelstiltskin and Belle came home to Aramis running around the house, screaming, "I'm feeeeeeeee!" as butt naked as the day he was born, and in the middle of winter. The couple chastised Henry, explaining how easily Aramis could get sick.

Aramis ran up to his parents, banging on their legs, declaring, "It was fun!"

Beyond Henry there was Roland, and above Henry and Roland there was Neal. Neal Nolan was Aramis' best friend. When Neal's parents and sister were out hunting whom or whatever, the young prince was at the Golds' house. Rumpelstiltskin had no qualms about the boy - he was not his parents, who were annoying, and he was not the savior, so he was of no use. - and Belle adored him as if he were her own. The boys bonded and soon became brothers. Neal was the Caesar to Aramis' Antony - they were both equal in strength and brilliance, but the people would always love Neal Caesar to Marc Aramis. The younger man didn't much care. People didn't watch him like they did Neal, which just meant he could accomplish more trouble. Normally they got in trouble together and took on equal punishment. The Charmings hated this, most of the time considering that Aramis was a horrible influence on Neal when they were older. Rumpel found it rather hilarious that they got all worked up over it.

It didn't matter much later, though. When Mary Margaret retired from the position of mayor, it wasn't any of her children who took her seat. It was Aramis who was elected into the office, similarly to how Emma had been elected to sheriff.

In the end, it was to Aramis that the people followed.

* * *

When Aramis was two, Belle suffered a miscarriage. He woke up in the middle of the night to Mama crying. Rumpelstiltskin remembered the look of worry on his young boy's face at the sight of his mother crying when he peaked around the doorway into their room. Everyone else cried, but his Mama and Papa were strong. Nothing could hurt them.

Aramis spent a week with the Nolans during that time. Belle was completely heart broken and Rumpelstiltskin was doing all he doing all he could to help her. In the end, it was the sight of Aramis and her foster son, so concerned for her welfare, that ended her misery.

Aramis staid with his nephew and the Hoods for another week the next year, but this time it was not because of a loss, but because of an addition.

Rumpelstiltskin came to pick up his son right before school on a Wednesday so that he could visit his mother and his new little brother.

Over the course of the next seven years, Aramis became a big brother three more times.

At the age of five, Aramis realized with extreme excitement that he had magic like his papa. Night after night, he'd been suffering nightmares. Eventually he couldn't sleep. He would read off of the moonlight, too scared to move out of bed. At one point, as he began to live in a zombie-like state, he wondered out of bed for a drink and every light he passed on the way down to the kitchen flickered on. His parents found him in the kitchen, barely conscious on the top of the table with food and drinks floating from the refrigerator and to his mouth where he chewed lazily.

The next morning, he was running around he house, messing with the dog by making it float.

When the oldest Gold boy was eight, he stole his father's Cadillac, donned in his Hulk pajamas, and drove around Storybrooke for the majority of the night. He got some ice cream from Ana, who he had a crush on then, and locked the doors of the school house with a binding spell he hoped would cancel school the next day (which it did.)

He almost got away with it to, if he hadn't knocked over the mailbox and then parked the back end of the car in the lawn.

When Rumpelstiltskin walked out the next morning, he thought he was going crazy and then he realized his son hadn't even bothered to wake up, completely aware that there was no school when his mother came in and told him.

"ARAMIS!"

He wasn't able to sit for a week after that.

* * *

When he was ten, the Golds and the Nolans were called into the Principal Phillip Wells' office in the early afternoon. Neal and Aramis had gotten into a fight, about what they would not say, but when fists would not suffice, Aramis took it upon himself to enlist them into a duel in the middle of the middle of the basketball courts. While kids of all grades surrounded them, Neal and Aramis battled gracefully with swords. So natural and elegant, even Phillip had paused in awe at them.

When Rumpelstiltskin came home later that day, ready and able to discipline his son, Belle stopped him at the bottom of the stairs, a gentle hand on his chest.

"Be just, Rumpel."

"I'm not going to whip the boy." He reassured.

"No, Rumpel, no." She tried not to smile. She failed, and then she tried not to laugh and again failed at that.

"What?" Her husband asked, utterly confused.

"He told me why they fought, he and Neal."

"What was it about?"

She bit her bottom lip. "He and Neal both have crushes on Briar. They confessed such affections to each other today and they decided there was only one way to win her honor."

"Briar? Briar Rose? Wells' daughter?"

She nodded. "That's why the didn't tell him. He would have gone berserk." Belle laughed.

Rumpelstiltskin stared at his wife for a moment in shock. Finally he sighed with a shake of his head. He began to move up the stairs when Belle grabbed his hand. "Talk to him about the swords but don't tell him I told you. I think he'd never talk to me again if he knew I tattled on him."

Rumpelstiltskin grinned. "Don't worry. Besides, I'll just get the chance to explain how best to win a girl's heart."

"How's that?"

He took her chin between his fingers. "You make her a deal." And he laid a sweet kiss, a promise, on her lips before he left.

* * *

When he was fourteen, he…_discovered_ himself, much to Belle's horror. But he also transformed from a boy who wore whatever was in his laundry pile, not even bothering to comb his mass of curly brown hair, to a young man who combed _and_ styled his hair and laid out what he was going to wear the night before, usually something very classy, much to his father's pride.

He was sixteen when he came home one day from cross country practice (he was the fastest boy anyone had ever seen) and collapsed onto the floor next to the door.

"Aramis? Are you all right?" Belle demanded, rushing over to his side. She petted his sweaty curls, flattening them against the side of his head.

His head flopped over to look at her, grinning like an idiot. "Oh, gods, Mom, I'm more than all right. I'm… For the first time, I feel alive, Mom. I feel like in flying."

Belle leaned away, confused. "Pardon me?"

"Sure. Sure." He answered, standing up on shaking legs. He barely noticed them, his eyes staring off into another world. And then absolute fright consumed him. "Oh, no!"

"What? What's wrong?" Belle demanded.

"It a month before winter formal!"

"So?" His younger brother scoffed from the living room.

"I need to ask her! No. I _should_ ask her." He looked at his mother, worried. "You don't think I'll die if she says no, do you?"

"Darling, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"That's good. That's good. Okay, so, I'm going to go take a shower, and then I'm going to get to work. Don't worry about starting dinner without me. Thank you so much, Mom!" He kissed her and then hurried off to the bathroom. "You were so much help!"

Belle turned to her second oldest son. "What was all that?"

"Melody Lake."

"Melody? Ariel's daughter?"

"The one and only."

"Aramis and Melody? Hm… You couldn't do much better."

"I'd prefer not to get in the way of that relationship."

"Oh, be quiet and read something."

"I'm okay with the TV."

"You're going to end up with that thing."

"I'm sure of it. We're _twu wuvs_, Mother."

* * *

The next day, when Belle asked if he needed any help, he replied with a grin brighter than the sun, "Only with the clothes."

The formal's theme was a masquerade, and Aramis, whom Neal had seemed to rubbed off on, had decided the best thing to do to win Melody's hand was to win it at the ball. They spent the weeks remaining creating Aramis into a figment of a storybook. His father tailored him a strapping black suit and purple button up shirt. He wore his father's shinning Italian shoes and a black cloak that covered his right side, with a glittering silver scarf and tie. His mask covered his eyes and was a beautiful violet sparkled with silver stars.

When Belle and Rumpelstiltskin, watched him leave with Neal, the best friends were better that storybook characters. They could've been gods.

They arrived at town hall just as everyone else was, all masked and mysterious. Immediately, Aramis went to action. He would find Melody. He would find her and absolutely charm her.

He'd taken a pencil from her locker during break earlier in the week. It was hers, simple, and not to stalkiess so that he himself would feel weird about it. After one glass of spiked punch, he dipped her pencil into his tracking spell and let it guide him to her.

His heart broke in his throat when it brought him to a boy a foot taller than him, blond and brown eyed - the complete opposite of Melody.

That was when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

"Uh, excuse me." She said. "You're standing on my dress."

"Oh, I'm so-" Aramis stopped and stared into the emerald green eyes staring back at him through the slits of her pink and gold mask, matching her gown, something fit for a princess. After a moment, the boy was able to shut his mouth and remove his foot from her train. He offered the deepest bow he would ever preform, only for the princess of the seas. "My apologies, milady." He'd been practicing his father's Fortlander accent all week and he achieved it with brilliance.

"No matter," she replied. She swung her dress around so it laid behind her as she looked up at Aramis. "Do I know you?"

"You know everyone here, milady. I'm sure I am no stranger."

"Do you know me?"

"Everyone knows a princess."

"What's my name?"

"Names are very powerful, milady. I would not be such a fool as to say yours amongst so many."

He could see her delicate eyebrows furrow in confusion, but that did not stop her from smiling. Aramis smiled in return, a devious grin. He completed another bow, sweeping his cloak behind his back, and offering his hand to her.

"Would milady care for a dance?"

Suddenly, the song that was playing behind them ended and the small orchestra next to the DJ began to play a dramatic piece, full of the violin and cello. It was something his father often played when he'd spin his mother away from whatever she was doing and completely sweep her off her feet. Those days usually ended with everybody going to bed in their own beds, but Aramis wasn't thinking about that.

Just the fact that Melody nodded and took his out stretched hand made his night.

"Why not?"

Her friends giggled as she walked off onto the dance floor, and Aramis saw Neal give him a thumbs up and cheeky grin.

They ended the night with kiss as light as a feather on each other's lips, their legs weak and shaking with…with whatever was making their hearts pound.

"Will I ever see you again?" Melody questioned sadly, in front of her house, where she and Aramis had walked from the dance after it became to loud and rowdy, lead by Neal, of course.

The young men gingerly lifted her chin with his thumb and index finger, making her look up into his eyes. "There are few who can leave Storybrooke, milady. Even if I were one, I would not think of it after tonight."

"That doesn't answer my question."

Aramis smiled, the devious grin he'd inherited from his father. "You will see me again. I promise you that, milady, and I never break my promises."

"Will I know who you are?"

"Eventually. Good night,"

"Good night."

Melody walked to her front door, where her father was waiting on the other side, but when she turned around to catch one last glance at her mysterious partner, he was gone.

By spring, Storybrooke found itself terrorized by a villain once again.

During the last occasion that the villain - a sea witch whom had had it out for Melody since she was an infant - fought the heroes, Melody was caught in the battle. Her father hurried to her aid, but he was too late. Aramis had thrown himself in front of a dagger aimed directly at the princess's heart, catching it in his chest.

As he struggled for breath, Melody dropped down to her knees beside him and pulled him up to lay against her.

"No, no, no." She sobbed, petting his thick curls away from his face. "Aramis… You idiot, why did you do that?"

"There are few who can leave Storybrooke, milady. I would not have you be one of them." He coughed.

She smiled down at the gentleman, her tears running down his cheeks and onto his lips. "It was you…"

"Aye."

"I'd hoped it would be." She gave a watery laugh. "I didn't even know you saw me."

"Even the blind can." She laughed again, hiding her face in his hair. "Don't cry. Please, don't cry. I'll be all right. You'll see. Don't cry, milady."

They were able to get Aramis to the hospital just in time to stop the internal bleeding and save his life. An ugly scar was left as a momento of the event. It wasn't he only he had, but it was the one he was most proud of.

Until he woke up from his medical induced coma, Melody did not leave his side.

Since then, they've been together. Their senior year, they went to the prom and were declared king and queen, much to most people's surprise. The picture that was taken while they weren't looking shows Melody in a pink gown and Aramis in a black suit with a purple shirt and silver tie, just as they were at their first dance.

* * *

In the January of his twentieth year on the planet, he went up to Mr. Eric Lake at his place of business on the docks, and with all the courage he could muster, asked the king for his daughter's hand in marriage. Eric had always been keen on the Gold children, Belle being one of the closest friends his wife had and then the fact that Aramis had saved and protected his children a great many times, before he was even interested in Melody.

With a both solemn and proud handshake, Eric gave the boy his blessing.

Six months later, after thousands of ideas and advise from both his father and (hopefully) his future father-in-law, Aramis put his plan into action.

During the summer, Ariel encouraged the town to spend time in the water. Melody, having found that she was a part of the ocean as much as the land, often went out farther than anybody else, even her mother. Aramis was very aware of this (many times she'd pulled him out along with her.) and decided to take advantage of that.

Earlier in the week, he stole her clam locket, the one her grandfather had given her and that she hyperventilated without, and enchanted it with a spell, much like the one his father had used on his parents' chipped cup while he was in Neverland. Aramis knew that Melody would go looking for it in her cave, her secret hide away from everyone, including him, and it was there that he put it. But when she opened it, instead of the lullaby she was so accustomed to, it would sound, in his voice,

_Like you are the sea,_

_I am the land._

_As you are the sun,_

_I am the moon._

_As different as we may seem,_

_We cannot be without the other._

_The moon cannot shine without its sun._

_The sun is a jewel that the moon protects._

_A jewel unlike any other._

_A pearl born of land and sea._

_Come to me and see what more such a jewel can be._

When Melody made it to shore, it was sunset, and Aramis was waiting on the beach for her. She was still wading through the cold waves when he slowly bent down to one knee. Melody stopped, her breath hitched in her throat.

Aramis gave her his famous smile, holding out a small box made of cherrywood, framed with gold. He opened it and showed her the silver braided band, made to her exact size, that held up a small pearl, so much more beautiful then a diamond in the rosy dusk sunlight.

"Will you marry me, Melody Lake?" Aramis asked.

"Yes. Oh, gods, yes, Aramis!" Melody sprinted from the tide and into her best friend's arms. He swept her up from the sand and spinner her around, encasing her in a swift cyclone of magic. When he set her down, her old two piece had transformed into a beautiful glittering purple dress. He slipped the ring on to her finger, kissing her full in the mouth, invoking every ounce of passion the couple had for each other.

Above them on the pier, half the town hollered in celebration.

The wedding was absolutely beautiful in that following autumn. Melody picked out gold and sea foam green colors. Nearly the whole town attended, the two's families lining the first few rows. Dr. Hopper conducted the ceremony, as he had both the Lakes' and the Golds'. The newlyweds spent their honeymoon in their newly inherited cabin up in the northern woods.

Belle only allowed herself to cry after they were gone, repeating that her baby was gone while the rest of her children walked behind their parents, looking at each other in confusion and thinking:

"What are we?"

Eric was in a similar situation, though he had another daughter and he silently cried for the majority of the ceremony and party. Rumpelstiltskin and Ariel were partners in loudly celebrating their children's union.

At the age of twenty-five, two things happened. Aramis settled down a bit. He was not as much trouble or manipulative as he'd been (or at least that people knew.) or compared to what his siblings were now. He was only a real epic pain in the ass to one person:

His little sister.

They were ten years a part but throughout his life, he'd been a dotting and protective older brother, as well as were the rest of their brothers. She and Melody were as close as sisters, which was extra awesome because the only Gold daughter could talk to her sister-in-law about things she'd rather not with her mother or have her father overhear.

So that was how Aramis found out that his sister had a crush on one of her best friends - Leopold Nolan.

He took this to Neal, looking for what information the prince had on his own little brother. Reverting to their old ways, they began to snoop around people's lives and found that Leo had a crush on a girl named August.

Melody had been adamant that Aramis should leave everything alone, allowing things to take their course. When it came to his family, though, Aramis didn't listen to anyone, naturally, like his father.

He asked Melody to gently include it into a conversation the next time she saw his little sister, but at the new knowledge, Aramis watched his wife blanch.

"What? Melody, are you all right?"

"August isn't a girl, Aramis."

Then Aramis blanched.

So did Neal.

And that was how the town found out that Leo Nolan was gay and Aramis and his brothers literally turned their sister's love life into something nonexistent.

That only lasted for awhile, however.

On the first of May, on the morning after a beautiful spring storm while the town was glittering with cool droplets of water and dew shone on the grass, Melody and Aramis added a new addition to the town.

A little girl with her mother's green eyes and her grandmother's chestnut hair. Dora Olivia Gold.

Three years later, as the leaves began to die reds and oranges on the ground and the trees stood naked with the streets covered with soft ice, Pitch came to town.

* * *

_Be sure to check in next week for part two - Ramsey Arthur Gold._


	3. Ramsey Arthur Gold

Part Two: Ramsey Arthur Gold

There had been a lot of foreplay, Belle remembered that more than anything. It wasn't as if it was a new thing, but Rumpelstiltskin (she was sure of it) had started the night with the idea of lengthening it as much as he could. It was a brilliant concept, of course - Aramis was sleeping over with the Hoods and Henry and they had the next twenty four hours to themselves (if no one decided to bother them) - but all she _wanted_ was _him_.

Eventually, she'd taken the lead, much to both Rumpel's surprise and delight. If there was anything good that had come from Belle spending a few weeks as Lacey, it was the…bold, sexual eagerness she'd left behind. Sure, Belle had never been ignorant of how to work men and had used it every chance she got on Rumpelstiltskin, but she had not been the expert that Lacey had. The combination of Rumpel's gentle and adventurous Belle and the traits left behind by Lacey had turned them into something of a Gomez and Morticia Addams kind of couple. However, considerably more controlled.

Two months later, Belle had gone without a period and was starting to get sick in the mornings. And when it was confirmed (because Rumpel knew she liked being the one to tell him, considering she was the one carrying the baby) the Dark One practically died of excitement at the thought of another child.

But for the first few months, Belle was hesitant to get her hopes up, even once the sicknesses began to pass and she began to show. She'd lost a child already while she had been due to keep it well. Her husband constantly told her it happened sometimes. Maurice had even gotten up the courage to tell her of a brother she almost had, but that did not lessen her pain. A part of her heart had left with that baby (it hadn't even been alive long enough for them to know the gender) and Belle didn't know if she could survive another heartbreak. It was a fear she would have during every one of her later pregnancies too, and even after her children were born healthy and alive into the world.

* * *

Three years after they got Aramis and a year after the loss, as the sun began to set on a Tuesday, Belle went into labor.

Henry was there, getting a lay of the land because he would be Aramis' main caregiver when Belle and Rumpelstiltskin would have to travel to the hospital for the kiddo's new baby brother or sister. Whichever one, he didn't care. If it came out a puppy, then he would be absolutely _thrilled_.

Rumpelstiltskin had gone up to his office to get a key to the pawnshop (something he'd yet to entrust with the teenager before now. Henry had a key to the house, and after forgetting it many times, had learned several ways in, but now it was old and was looking forward to breaking into the shop whenever he forgot _that_ key,) when Belle stood from the kitchen table and wobbled into the hallway.

"Henry," she said, her breathing a bit heavy, but the boy didn't notice. "Can you call your grandfather for me?"

"Sure. Grandpa!" Aramis covered his ears next to Henry. The little boy was deathly afraid of loud noises, but he lived in Storybrooke, so what was someone supposed to do, eh?

"Yes?" Rumpel called back, sounding distracted.

"Tell him it's time."

"Belle says it's time!"

"Time for what?" He called back, still distracted.

"The baby." She growled between clenched teeth.

"The baby!"

They all heard something heavy drop and Aramis shot onto the couch, using a pillow to protect his ears.

Realizing what he'd just said, Henry flashed around to look at the woman who was technically his grandmother, his eyes bugging out of his skull. "Wait, what?"

Behind him, Rumpelstiltskin was rushing down the stairs, a bag slung over his shoulder and car keys in hand. "Henry, you've got Aramis. Goodbye, little one." He kissed his son's head.

Belle was already heading for the car.

"No, Papa! No! Mama! Don't go! Don't go!" The three year old sprinted after his parents, but only got swung over his nephew's shoulder before he could hit the door, sitting open because Rumpelstiltskin had forgotten to close it. He slammed on Henry's shoulder blade and back. "NO!"

While Rumpel was panicking, a little less than he had before when they both thought Aramis was going to be born in the woods in the cold, Belle was a hell of a lot more composed than the last time. She did not threaten to castrate him this time around, however the baby was choosing to be a little more difficult than their older brother. She did, though, tell him he was going to be kicked out of the ward if he didn't catch a breather and calm down.

He still couldn't help but smile when he said, "Sorry, sweetheart," and then cringe as she squeezed his hand.

At 8:45 p.m. the parents personally welcomed Ramsey Arthur to Storybrooke.

The next morning, Rumpelstiltskin reluctantly left his wife and picked his son up from his grandson. Henry was barely awake but Aramis was overjoyed at the sight of the father he so adored.

But eventually it was, "Where's Mama?" as he clung to his father's neck.

"Mama's with your new baby brother."

"So it's a boy?" Robin asked, coming from the kitchen. Henry was leaning against the wall, asleep (Aramis must've kept him up all night).

"Yes. Ramsey Gold." The father said proudly.

"Amsey." Aramis tried to say.

Rumpelstiltskin and Robin laughed. "We'll work on that later. Do you want to go and see him?"

"Sure." The three year old did not seem too enthused as when his papa had appeared.

"Okay. We'll come pick up the rest of your things later. I want to get back as soon as possible." Robin nodded in understanding.

"Wait, Papa." Aramis slipped down from Rumpelstiltskin's arms and rushed out of the room as quickly as his little legs would. After a moment, he reappeared, a piece of paper struggling against the air behind Aramis. He hurried up to Rumpel so he was toe to toe with the man. Then he held up the paper, showing him the crude picture he'd drawn of what looked to be Rumpel in his normal suit, Belle in a yellow dress (like the one from Henry's book Aramis had learned to love as well,) Aramis, and the boy who could practically be his twin, only smaller. When Rumpelstiltskin picked him back up, Aramis explained, "That's you, that's Mama, that's me, and that's Amsey."

Rumpelstiltskin scowled. "When did you draw this?"

"Last night. Aft you and Mama left."

"So you did want a little brother." Papa grinned. "Well, your wish was -"

"No. No. No." Aramis shook his head, throwing around his curls. "I saw him at home. E said 'ello to me. E said 'ello to Eny too, but e didn't he-hea-"

"Hear."

"Yeah. That. Eny didn't do that."

"Hm,"

To say the least, from then on, Aramis was absolutely enthusiastic about his new little brother.

* * *

In the beginning, Aramis was Ramsey's shadow.

Belle would wake up in the middle of the night (because for a wizard so attuned to danger, her husband slept like a brick.) to Aramis curled up in the rocking chair pulled beside Ramsey's cradle, whispering to him and keeping his baby brother comfortable. Constantly watched by his guardian brother, Ramsey could never feel lonely, hurt, or hungry (perhaps a little stalked, but…) But as time passed, and Belle's son grew older, Ramsey became Aramis' shadow. There was no wrong that Aramis could do in Ramsey's eyes and everything the older boy did, the younger one had to do too. That became a bit problematic too when Aramis began to steal swords from his father's pawn shop with Neal Nolan and duel on top of roofs live the warriors they were destined to be.

The only reason that Belle and Rumpelstiltskin even found out about the roof jumping and dueling was because one day, Ramsey decided to follow his brother up onto the roof and got stuck on the latter up to the attic. He was crying for only gods know how long before Rumpelstiltskin heard him and rescued him. It was then that Ramsey's fear of heights began to develop. His whole life, he's never been in any attics and he's never been on any roofs. (House roofs, anyway. There one situation later on.)

Aramis couldn't sit for a week.

Eventually though, they became each other's left hands instead of shadows. With new siblings, Ramsey became as much as a faithful and protective older brother as Aramis had been for him. And while Aramis learned to use swords and other instruments known as weapons more than his magic, Ramsey grew into his inherited magic, thoroughly influenced and challenged by his father and the different kinds of magic that always plagued their sleepy little town.

It's been said many times that Ramsey's curiosity rivals his mother's, and in many cases, Belle could rush to find her son, looking for something interesting, whether it help the situation or not, in an hour of peril and end up searching with him. On more than one occasion has the mother son pair saved everybody's asses.

Ramsey was a quiet child, always thinking more than doing. He spent time enthralled in books, not like his mother for the love it, but for the knowledge, much like his father. Many people were concerned about this. They'd always been weary of Aramis, but as Ramsey grew into his family's legacy, people became scared.

He became a lean young man of average height and thick chocolate brown hair. He had sharp, narrow features and analytical brown/blue eyes. He was quick and often invisible he was so quiet. Just as many times as Emma had saved the town, he's saved his siblings from needing Emma to save the town.

Still, he wasn't a complete saint.

* * *

"You called, dearie?" a high pitched, cartoonish voice asked playfully behind him.

Ramsey stood in the middle of a clearing beneath a blue moon and glittering stars. He was donned in a large black cloak, it's hood to long that it fell into his neck. It reminded him of something Voldemort would wear, and a small part of him took pride in that. Thankfully, however, it was the summer and the fabric of his gown was thin enough that he could see through it. He'd traveled dozens of times to hundreds of places, but this was his boldest move yet. He didn't need to screw it up.

"So, the rumors are true." Ramsey snipped back, grinning beneath his hood. "There's a new Dark One in town."

The younger, glittering Rumpelstiltskin Ramsey never had the pleasure of knowing and would never consider father, dropped his smile and cocked his head to the side, cautiously stepping forward. "Who are you?"

"An old soul." Ramsey answered, stepping away to the other side of the clearing. Since he could never see this creature before him as his father, there was no need for him to speak to him as if he were. Rumpelstilskin did have a _very_ good memory, though, and taunting him might prove problematic in the future, but Ramsey was having too much fun to care. "You're too young to know me."

"I'd doubt that."

Ramsey laughed. "Think as you may, Dark One."

"Why did you call me here?" Rumpelstiltskin demanded, his voice slightly quivering. He was young. He'd only been the Dark One for a few years and had not perfected his business style. He was used to people being afraid of him, not the other way around.

"No reason really, I just wanted to see you. I might have some business with you in the future and since you killed that worthless slug Zozo, my business now falls with you. Perhaps you'll prove a better colleague."

"What's your name?" Rumpelstiltskin hissed.

Ramsey laughed again, a hearty, booming laugh that nearly made Rumpelstilskin jump a mile into the air like a cat. "You'll know it eventually. When I deem it fit. Zozo never told you about me, might've slipped his mind, but learn to remember Rumpelstilskin, I'm always watching. I'll bring my business to you, you don't ask any questions and if you screw up - at anything, mind you - you will pay." Ramsey stepped dangerously close to his future father. "All magic comes with a price."

It was something his father would tell everybody else, and Ramsey didn't know whether Rumpelstiltskin was already or not, but it was always a good reminder. So Ramsey twirled into oblivion and went home with a bit of hope. He knew it was dangerous to mess with time, but if it helped lessen that which plagued his family, then what could be the harm?

But still nothing had changed when he woke up the next morning. He still had three brothers and a little sister, all with problems of their own. His father was still the town fear and mother the town librarian. They were still madly in love, despite everything that they'd gone through together. Perhaps, Ramsey thought, this is just how things always end up being.

As Ramsey had turned into a teen, he'd dove into the books that his father had used to teach himself and his most prominent apprentices like Cora and her daughters, Regina and Zelena. It was there he found darkness nobody could even imagine. Slowly, he began to change, for the good or the bad, no one could tell. Only his father knew why and only his father could be blamed. He'd warned Ramsey of the challenges of magic - the price.

Month by month, more and more of Ramsey's innocence faded away. One day, Rumpelstiltskin caught him using a powerful spell in the middle of the forest.

"Ramsey! Ramsey, stop! Enough!" Rumpelstiltskin lunged forward and wanked his son's hand away from the spell, killing it's energy and Ramsey's concentration.

"What have you done? Why did you do that? That was three months of work flushed down the toilet!"

"It doesn't matter. None of it matters anymore. Ramsey, you must stop. You must stop this. Quite magic."

"Why? Because I'm powerful?"

"Because you've changed and if the price of your teachings is yourself, I will not have it."

"Nothings changed!"

"Your darkening, Ramsey! Of course something changed! You've sacrificed your innocence, your purity for this knowledge!"

"You did it!"

"That's not the point!" Rumpelstilskin snapped.

"Then what is? Everyone in this damn town mistakes ignorance for innocence. I've done nothing to contaminate myself! Look!"

Rumpelstiltskin did look. As much as puberty had changed Ramsey, so had magic. He'd turned from a small, restless little boy into a tall, thin creature completely donned in black. Throughout his months of dedication to magic, he'd forgotten to cut his hair; so now it swayed above his shoulders. He'd forgotten to eat or sleep; so now bags hung beneath his wild brown/blue eyes and his tanned body had eaten at all the fat leaving a stick man.

He looked so much like his father, his father was afraid he would become like him.

But that wasn't what Ramsey had meant. He'd meant for his father to watch as he stuck his hand into his chest and pulled out his own completely red, thumping heart. Unscathed by darkness or sin.

Rumpelstiltskin looked at it in marvel. His son's soul glowed with the same power that he'd seen flicker in Belle's womb when she was pregnant with their second son. It had not been touched by the same things that had scared Snow White's heart, Regina's, Hook's, or his own. And Rumpelstiltskin realized that his son was right.

Ignorance didn't make innocence.

Ramsey would end up being probably the most innocent of them all.

Along with his new wardrobe - mostly blacks and dark grays, his vial of some kind of magical dust that hung on a thick chain around his neck and other various jewelry - he ended up unearthing all kinds of magical phenomenons (all of which he did not share with anyone, for fear of what would become of it), including Zelena's time travel. His way was not so…unusual. He figured a way around that and satisfied his curiosity throughout history.

He traveled to the time of the ancient gods, in both the land without magic and the Enchanted Forest. He studied with Socrates and fought beside Winston Churchill in WWI. He battled the first Dark Ones and watched Arthur draw Excalibur from it's stone. He learned about his family, as far back as his mother's great-great grandfather, a mighty king. He spied on Aramis the day of his own birth, the day he'd drawn his family picture, something that everyone has forgotten. He even watched his eldest brother, Baelfire, grow.

It was awesome.

And he still made sure that he didn't screw anything up.

That didn't stop his sister from creeping into his room before bed one night. She was in her favorite pink nightgown, just out from a bath. He could hear Belle call for her in the story below, telling her to go kiss Papa goodnight. She hurried to the side of his bed, holding her baby blankets against her chest. Her brown/blue eyes starred maturely into his and…Ramsey felt his heart stop.

He'd always figured every one of his siblings was something special. Aramis was the heir of the Dark One and he'd agreed to take on the power once Rumpelstiltskin had died. Ramsey was, well, a pioneer of magic. Another brother could build about anything and could embed it with magic. The last might as well be a figure of myth he was so odd. But their little sister was completely different. She seemed normal. She was normal. While the rest of them had exhibited signs of magic by her age, she could barely light a candle. Yet still, during all of his journeys, Ramsey had heard many prophecies, many of which sparked the thought of the only Gold daughter. But no matter the prophecy, he dare not travel to the future and see what was to become. He only came home and hugged his sister until she was sick of him.

"I know what you did." She whispered in his ear, hiding it with a kiss on the cheek.

"What?"

"Hay. C'mon, it's time for bed, lil' bit. Let's go kiss Papa." Aramis stood in the doorway, ushering the little girl to him.

"Think what you may, Dark One!" The girl declared, jumping on Ramsey's bed and waving her blankets like a flag. Ramsey jumped at the sound of his own script being read by his sister. "Catch me if you can!" She jumped down and while attempting to sprint through Aramis' legs, got caught and hauled over her older brother's shoulder down the stairs.

"No! No!" Ramsey hurried to see her pound against their older brother's back. "I don't wanna go to bed! I don't wanna go to bed!"

"Lil' bit! Why'd you call?" Ramsey asked.

"I just wanted to see you!" She replied, disappearing into the parlor to kiss Belle and Rumpelstiltskin goodnight. When she came back up, about a half an hour later, slack in Aramis' arms, she yawned, "I'm always watching."

* * *

His little sister wasn't the only one Ramsey's practices attracted. Not long after his sister made him aware of her knowledge, however the heck she did, he was pulled out of school in the middle of class by an stranger.

He stood on the front steps of the high school, dressed as crisply and dangerously as Rumpelstiltskin was when he collected rent. It was meant to inspire fear and authority, Ramsey knew well. Every time his mother dressed in best clothes, her husband and all of her children knew someone was up for a good ass whooping. But Ramsey knew nothing of man. Someone so adequately dressed was bound to be known in such a small town.

"Hello, Ramsey." The gentleman greeted with a knowing grin.

"Hello. Can I help you?"

"Yes." Was his simple answer.

"With what?"

"Everything."

"Okay. I'm gonna go now. I don't know who you are, but I think you should go back to the asylum." Ramsey turned on his heels back to the door, but, when he tried to open it, none of his strength could open it. He even used an unlocking spell, and still the doors wouldn't open.

"I'd like to talk to you, Ramsey. It won't take long. I promise."

"How do you know my name?"

"I know everything about you. You and your family."

"Tell me yours."  
"Oh, I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"It'd spoil the surprise."

"I'm not going anywhere until I know your name, psycho. Got it? I need to know _something_ if you want me to talk to you."

The man just continued to smile. He was a handsome man, only a few years older than Aramis, with thick, combed black hair and grey eyes that glowed against his bronze skin. He looked like a Greek statue; his shoulders broad and body medium framed; features chiseled to perfection. "All right."

"That's it?"

He shrugged. "Sure. You want to know my name?"

"Yes. I do."

"Then ask me."

"Ask you?"

"Ask me my name."

"What's your name?"

"Merlin."

"Mer-" Ramsey's eyes went wide and his jaw dropped. His heart started to race and he felt like he was going to pass out. He swallowed hard, almost harmfully, but his mouth was still dry. "And you want to talk to _me_?"

"Yes. I would. I'm interested in what you've found."

"How do you know-"  
"You're not the only one always watching, Ramsey."

"You told R-"

Merlin shook his head insistently. "No. I have been nowhere near your sister. Your father would sense me within a hundred miles. And believe me, your father and I don't get along."

"Then how are you here?"

"Your magic, Ramsey. You are a powerful wizard. One of the most powerful your father and I have seen in all of our years. He's become accustomed to your magic and your magic can hide my magic."

"Why do you care?"

"I want you to become my apprentice, Ramsey."

Ramsey's face went slack and he felt his heart slow. "Even after what Papa did?"

"Especially because of what your papa did."

"I won't be a part of some revenge against my father."

"I do not expect such. I _want_ to teach you, Ramsey." Merlin threw something up to Ramsey, right into the palm of his hand. It was a ring. A golden ring with the crest of King Arthur's court. The crest of Belle's family. "Your great-great grandfather gave that to me. And now I give it to you, to prove my friendship and the faith I have in you, Ramsey Arthur Gold.

"When you're ready, or whenever you have the time, go to your predecessor's old household. I'll be waiting for you."

Without another word, Merlin left off into the woods. Ramsey ran after him, but before long, the wizard's footprints had disappeared.

* * *

There was a family in the Apprentice's old house. Ramsey knew them. He went to school with them. Their mother was the fourth grade teacher and his first crush. Ramsey checked his pocket watch. It was almost eleven. The young man had been sitting in a tree across for almost two hours, trying to mangle up the courage to go in. And Ramsey feared that if he didn't that night, he wouldn't be bold enough to try again.

But how could he? The family was obviously home. The cars were parked out front and he'd seen the father turn all the lights out before he went to bed.

"Don't be stupid." He scolded himself quietly. "Merlin would've known that the house was taken. It's a test. A test to see if you can get in." He laughed loudly, making the birds jump and fly away. He hushed, grinning at his cleverness.

As he crept across the street, swift and black like a shadow, he waved his hand across his body, casting an invisibility spell. He'd yet to come across the famous Invisibility Cloak in his travels, but he hadn't put out hope. With a flick of the wrist, Ramsey unlocked the door and tip toed in, only opening the door enough so it wouldn't squeak.

Then he stopped.

And completely confused.

Suddenly, a shrill, painful sound came from his side and he turned just in time to see a black ball charge at him and start smacking him with a broom.

"Hay! Hay, cut it out! Stop! Stop it!" Ramsey snapped his fingers as best he could under the circumstances and turned on the lights.

Almost immediately did the beating cease. "Oh. So sorry. Thought you were a bugler. Scared me right out of my nap. Didn't know it was you, sir."

"Didn't know it was me? Who the hell are you?"

It was an older fello just about Ramsey's height, who stood straight but walked hunched. His bulging brown eyes stared off in either direction and his thin lips wore a crooked grin. He leaned his broom against his hunch over her right shoulder. He wore a utility belt around his waist and a black hood that he kept over his head and on his chest, he had a red and white "Hello, My Name Is…" name tag.

He patted it with his long, boney index finger.

"Igor?" Ramsey read aloud.

"Eye-gor." He pronounced. "Eye-gor."

Ramsey watched the poor creature, worried. "Igor,"

"No. Igor, sir. Say it. Igor."

"Igor."

"That's my name. Don't wear it out!" He laughed.

"Well then why don't you spell it that way?"

"I do! See. I. G. O. R. Igor."

"No. That's Igor."

"No. Igor is spelled I. G. O. R."

"That's the same bloody way!"

"Is it?" Igor (Eye-gor) looked at his name tag. "Oh. I'll be damned. It is."

"Who the hell are you?" Ramsey sighed.

"I'm Igor, sir."

"Why are you here?" Ramsey demanded, frustrated.

"I'm here to assist you, sir."

"What am I in - a Mel Brooks movie?"

"I know a Mel. He likes to ride his saddles while they're on fire."

Ramsey starred at Igor, dumbfounded.

"Are you all right, sir? You seem a bit…pale." Igor asked, genuinely curious.

"Why are you here? Where are the Livingstones?"

"The local hotel, sir. As you can see, the house is being redone. And Master Merlin sent me here to assist you in your works. I hope you aren't a necromantic. My grandfather, on my mother's side - the one without the hunch - he worked with a guy who electrocuted dead people."

"I didn't think anything could surprise me anymore. All I got to say is, I hope this is a dream."

Igor stepped forward and pinched Ramsey.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"You pinch yourselves to wake up from dreams don't you? Well, I do."

"Why did Merlin send you? He said he would meet me here when I was ready."

Igor shrugged. "Beats me. Maybe you took too long." Ramsey scowled. Igor raised his hands in innocence. "I'm only sayin'."

"Whatever." Ramsey marched out of the house, slamming the door shut in Igor's face. As soon as he was on the walkway, he realized his spell had been recasted. "What the-"

"No magic inside the house, sir." Igor informed, wobbling forward. "House rules."

"You can see me?"

"Special contacts." Igor explained very seriously.

Ramsey paused for a moment, Igor unfortunately growing on him. "You can't live with me." He finally said.

"Oh. I won't. I have a room in the laboratory."

"The laboratory?"

"Oh yeah. I forgot to tell you. Master Merlin set up a nice lab about a mile behind your house. He says it's got everything you'll need."

"You just forgot to tell me?"

"Well, I was kind of busy whacking you with my broom, wasn't I?" The very broom he was still carrying. He sounded offended.

"Whatever. Go to bed. I'll see you tomorrow."

Ramsey began to jog down the street where he'd left his bike. "Good night, sir! Sweet dreams!" Igor called, waving after a racing red, riderless bike beneath the full harvest moon.

* * *

Ramsey had lived through some shocking, scary, confusing, heart pounding moments. It was a daily necessity of living in Storybrooke. He'd had his mother walk in while he was…_uhum_. He'd run into his brother Aramis while they were both naked. He'd hung from the top of the clock tower and peed his pants (he was so afraid of heights, it was funny just to see him walk up the stairs.) He'd fallen into the harbor and needed Hook to save him.

Yeah. And most the time, he didn't speak for a week. But this time, he couldn't shut up.

"Just let me explain. This isn't what it looks like. I'm not turning into Whale. It's only magic. No sciency raising-of-the-dead-stuff. Igor will tell you."

"Hello," Igor waved.

"And he's a friend. Just a friend. Not a slave or servant or anything. No, no, no. Besides, he'd eat through any chains I'd lock him up in!" Ramsey laughed awkwardly.

"My room's over here if you'd like to come and join me." The hunched back, who's hunch now rested over his left shoulder, winked.

"Oh gods. Please don't say anything. You can't say anything. Everybody would freak. I'm not going to the dark side or anything. I promise. I like the light! I love it. It's warm and happy. Papa would kill me if he knew who put me up to this! He would kill me for doing half the stuff I am anyway. Papa would blow up the whole town! Aramis would blow up the whole town. Aramis would kill me, too. Aramis would definitely kill me." He said, dead serious before breaking back down into something like a little boy who'd got caught playing in his mom's makeup. "Oh, please, please, _please_, Melody. You can't tell anyone."

The older woman smiled lovingly at her future brother-in-law. She stepped forward and cradled his face. "Don't worry, Ramsey. I won't tell a soul. _I_ was worried about you. You've been so recluse lately. Your brother didn't even know where you were."

Ramsey slowly pulled the sheets he'd thrown over one of his lab tables in attempt to make everything look…none magical when he'd seen Melody out of the corner if his eye. He'd panicked! And Igor hadn't been any help. He was practically drooling over her.

He was, actually. There was a small puddle on the floor.

"You were?"

"Everyone is. Your mother is constantly worried about. She always asks if I've seen you. If you've said something. To me or Aramis. I don't know what you're doing, Ramsey, and you don't have to tell me, but whatever you are, it's making you sick. But the symptoms aren't showing up in you, but in those you love. Take a break. I'm sure it's not the cure to an apocalypse." True. "Come with me. Everyone's coming for dinner at the apartment."

"Can I come too?" Igor asked innocently.

"Sure,"

Ramsey didn't know what was worse that day. Melody discovering his biggest secret or having to explain that he'd been spending everyday for the last year with an old idiot who stared dumbly at every beautiful woman he saw and insisting that he wasn't gay.

But his most terrifying incident yet happened when he was twenty one, almost twenty two, and his sister was fourteen.

* * *

He'd forgotten the hat! He'd forgotten that damned, god forsaken, mother hubber hat at the house! Merlin's house in Storybrooke! Post-curse. Post Snow White's curse! Oh, he was so screwed! This could ruin everything. His father was power hungry enough as Ramsey knew him, what was he like in the past?

He had to go and get it back. He did go back to look for it, but things got…complicated.

He'd known well that nobody was living in the house, that was why he'd gone there. There were artifacts and texts there, too, that he couldn't get his hands on in his day and age Storybrooke. So, after he went home and realized what he'd done, he was panicking because of the fact he'd left one of the most powerful artifacts in all the realms unsupervised in another time, but calmed by the reassurance that nobody would find it.

Time just couldn't move fast enough, ironically. And if he'd just gone back a couple of hours before… Because what Ramsey hadn't realized was the day he'd left the hat in.

It was the day after his parents' wedding, the beginning of their honeymoon.

Ramsey watched in horror from the edge of the forest as the younger version of Belle and Rumpelstiltskin skipped into the house, eager to relish their well fought for solace. He had to be optimistic, though. They would undoubtedly go and, uh, do it, right? They wouldn't take a tour of the house. Or maybe they would, knowing Belle. But even if Rumpelstiltskin did recognize the hat, he wouldn't be able to possess it. For one, Belle wouldn't allow it, and two, who would want to dominate the world on their honeymoon?

Still, Ramsey wasn't about to go into that place while his parents were getting hot and heavy. He wait until they were asleep. But if Rumpelstiltslin _did_ find it, he'd wait until Belle was asleep…

Gods forgive him. He had to do it right then.

Ramsey was about to cast an invisibility spell, one of his most used spells, when someone grabbed his shoulder and pulled him to the ground.

"You idiot!" She hissed. "What've you done?"

"How the hell-" Ramsey demanded of his little sister.

"Never mind. You can't go in there, Ramsey. Papa will kill you."

"And in the future he'll know and will never allow me to travel." Ramsey insisted.

"And be heartbroken that he killed his own son! And you love traveling. You'd never endanger that."

"I would for the hat."

"It doesn't matter. The hat's in there. You've lost it and you won't see it again."

"That hat is _my_ responsibility! I _will_ get it back!" He sat up, but she pushed him back down.

"You can't! If anything happens that could ruin Mama and Papa's honeymoon, Aramis will never be born! You might, I might. But he won't be. You can't disrupt the pattern."

"I already have! Do you know what will happen if Papa finds the hat? It has the power to separate him from the dagger. Even if we are born, our lives will be entirely different if he succeeds."

"You. Can't. Do. _Anything_. Leave this up to me, Ramsey, please. I know what I can change and what I can't. All you've done is played around in history. But this is our lives at stake."

"So that makes you more qualified? A child?"

"A young woman." She corrected sternly. "And yes. You _may_ be the Apprentice, successor to Merlin, but I _am_ something even he cannot control. No one can."

Ramsey wanted to argue. To insist that his little sister was being silly, and even that this was a dream. But deep down, he knew. All those prophecies he'd credited to their family - she was one of them.

He remembered asking Merlin once if there was anything he feared.

"Yes," had been his simple answer.

"Okay." Ramsey sighed.

"Good. Now go home. I'll take care of this."

Ramsey nodded, and then left.

* * *

Over the course of the next year, Ramsey never again time traveled. He barely used magic at all. But when a terrible darkness fell across the town and his family, he relinquished any chastity.

He'd screwed up once. He wasn't going to do it again.

* * *

_Stay tuned for next week's chapter, part three: Macon Maurice Gold_


	4. Macon Maurice Gold

_Sorry for being so late, guys. The last couple of weeks have been horrid. From school restarting to a nasty flu and then catching up with school all over again... Aye ye aye. It's been a mess. But I promise to try and keep a regular schedule now. _

* * *

Part Three: Macon Maurice Gold

It was their sixth anniversary. Aramis was five; Ramsey was two, and they were both staying with their grandfather for the weekend. That was where it happened. They were sure of it. It had been three months since they'd last had the energy to do anything other than fall onto the bed, full clothed, and pass out. But they'd planned something special for their anniversary. A weekend up in the cabin, picnics by the lake and nothing but each other.

Gods, it was so amazing… They hadn't had a moment to themselves in so long. As soon as they waved Maurice and the boys goodbye, they could barely keep their hands off each other.

When they weren't sleeping, or curled up in front of a movie with a magnificent adult plate of food that they'd made together, they were kissing and fondling and…_doing. _Forty-eight hours of bliss.

Because nine months later, the Golds welcomed a bouncing baby boy, weighing nine pounds and three ounces with a pair of lungs that put both his brothers to shame, day _and_ night.

Macon could not be settled down by the sound of his parents voices, as Aramis and Ramsey had. There was no point in sitting down with youngsters and trying to read a storybook to them because after a couple minutes, Macon would be crying again. The only times he was quiet was when 1) when he was being fed, and he was hungry. _A lot_. And 2) when there were loud noises, the completely opposite of a normal baby. Either occasions, however, meant a complete lack of sleep for his family.

The Golds' pediatric doctor - once a midwife from the Marshlands - called it baby colic, which explained why the little one was quiet around noise rather than silence. She reassured the family that there was nothing wrong. It was something that just happened. She gave them a list of remedies to use and by the time that Macon could crawl, his crying was as normal as Aramis and Ramsey's had been.

He was still hungry enough to eat an ogre, but when the newest baby came eleven months later, he was unlatched from his mother's breast and given access to the refrigerator where they kept three bottles of milk constantly at the ready where Macon could get to them. Even into his adulthood, Macon drinks three gallons of milk a week, alone, and always has a bottle of water near. Plumbing was absolutely horrific when he was a teenager.

* * *

Macon was a _huge_ mama's boy.

While Aramis and Ramsey spent their time in school or at the family pawnshop, because they were big boys and could work with Papa, he and his only little brother would work with Belle at the library. That was where they learned their ABCs, pushing the book cart and organizing the stories up and down the shelves. Dr. Seuss (though the best of the best) came after Alexandre Dumas and the French novelist's books were ordered: _The Count of Monte Cristo_, _The Man in the Iron Mask_, _The Three Musketeers. _Victor Hugo came before J. K. Rowling and she was followed by Mark Twain.

Macon didn't read as much as his older counterparts, but he did respect and enjoy the written word, especially when it was read aloud. He did most of his reading, though, for the youngest Gold child (so far, even though Belle insisted that she was _done_ having children. Rumpelstiltskin would occasionally speak of one or two more, to which Belle would reply: "The day _you_ carry and birth a child is the day that we'll have another."). He would sit in Macon's lap and listen to him stumble over the words of _Do You Like Green Eggs and Ham? _and _Curious George. _Gradually, the pair escalated to the Magic Tree House series and _Encyclopedia_ _Brown. _Then to Harry Potter and Percy Jackson and the Found series by Margaret Peterson Haddix. Year after year, the complexity and maturity of their favorite genres climbed just as they did. Yet still, without flaw or fail, every night, they go lay down in the library together, and Macon will read to his little brother.

* * *

At early age, Macon, as well as reading to his brother, also developed a talent/hobby for inventing. While his father's and older brothers minds' worked like chess matches and his mother's thought like a library, Macon's brain always thought of things as puzzles. This thing goes there. That there. A dohicky there and - presto! - it was functional.

Usually.

He started with remote control cars, made completely from scratch, and model rockets and then jumped to go-karts and _actual_ rockets. On one occasion, during the summer while all the siblings were on vacation, he tested one of his rockets in the backyard. The take off had been perfect, he admitted, but the landing…not so much. It crashed into the roof and set the tiles ablaze with fuel. Nothing actually caught on fire though, not until Macon tried to put it out with a towel, which he succeeded in.

Then, to try and salvage the day, he went to the kitchen and made something to eat with a cup of tea, the gas covered towel flung over his shoulder. The towel that licked the burning stove while he was whipping it around as if it was a sword and caught fire. The towel he didn't know was on fire so he ignorantly flung it over his shoulder when he began to eat. The towel that set his shirt on fire and sent Ramsey into a panic attack.

By the time that Aramis got involved, the kitchen table was on fire. By the time all of the Gold siblings has destroyed the fire, the kitchen had severe water damage. When he got home, Rumpelstiltskin calmly and evenly asked if a hurricane had burst out of the faucet, because, "WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO MY KITCHEN!"

They were all grounded and Macon wasn't allowed to use towels anymore.

"That's what happens when you teach five children water spells, darling." Belle remarked.

"Well, it was either the kitchen, the house, or your son, sweetheart." Rumpelstiltskin replied through his teeth with a tight smile.

Once all of the children's sentences had been revoked, Rumpelstiltskin cleared out a section of the basement for Macon, and together they made a workshop.

But then a boy's hammer and nails work station became too small for an adolescent creating blue prints and tinkering things of his own design, using scraps from the junkyard and small spells for trickier things. And too soon did that creative and bright pre-teen who, even though such a big baby, had become a thin and lanky child that didn't like to talk in public because his voice sounded different (a side effect of his baby colic) loose space in his basement/think tank. He and his family created a second basement, right beneath the first, two sizes larger than the basement above. They built a furnace, a self-refilling water container, shelves, and chain link nets on the ceiling where he stored necessities. They covered the walls with his tools, hammers that were taller than a dwarf and sheets of metal that had been twisted into elegant creations.

Macon became a six-foot-three, two-hundred-and-fifty-five-pound mountain whose arms were as hard and effective as his hammers. He had broad, sculpted shoulders and clean cut, curly black hair that would glisten with sweat in the dull light of the wannabe volcano pit. His little sister asked him one day whether he wanted to be called Leo, Valdez, or, "Heph-Hepha…" She sighed. "Heph_ie_…" The little girl strained.

"Hephaestus," Macon pronounced with a patient smile, akin to his mother's.

"Yeah. Him."

"Ya know, I think I'd rather be-"

"Hephie," And she walked away, having decided for her big brother his new nickname.

"Okay then."

As many hours as his older brothers spent causing havoc and studying magic, Macon spent building. It was usually his mother or little girl Gold who traveled down into the realm of _**HEAT**_ and kept him hydrated and eating. There wasn't much Belle could do for Ramsey when he put a sealing spell on every inch of his room, but Macon was only focused on the kind of magic that could help him - binding spells, invisibility (he still don't know where that dagger went.), heating, protection, etc. There were times when one could just sit there and he was so determined, Macon wouldn't even talk. He'd just work around you.

* * *

Macon was not a young man known for violence. When he was out of his workshop, he had small children crawling over him because he was as giant as a mountain and young women giggling over his physique and husky voice. Macon's little sister didn't under why they did that. Her big brother was always covered in sot or oil, making him smelly and causing her to sneeze, and he never could tame his wild curls.

He was actually kind of...ignorant when it came to the act of war, even though he made the daggers and swords and shields that allowed the residence of Storybrooke to fight. It wasn't a bad thing. It was just...an _odd _thing.

However, such residence - Emma and David especially - noticed that Macon could become rather persuasive when he wanted. And, when it came to Miss Eva Nolan, Emma and Neal's younger sister.

Eva was not a tall person like the rest of her family, and a year older than Macon. She had long, thick, shining black hair like her mother's and her father's sparkling blue eyes. She was an absolute spitfire who could put the rowdy Gold boys in their place with just a glance their way.

And Macon absolutely swooned over her.

It was a windy fall morning when Macon was fifteen, only a few weeks before Aramis and Melanie's wedding, when Edmund Herman stepped over to the dark side. Macon had a full day of work ahead of him and had decided to start the day early. Apparently, so had Edmund.

Macon was driving (yes. The Gold boys had a tendency to disregard the laws. Much like their father.) down the lifless Main Street then abrubtly stopped at the sight of a tall figure, completely donned in black with clean cut blond hair. He had another figure slung over his right shoulder and dragged his three foot Roman gladius (the very one Macon had made for his father, Prince Thomas, to give Edmund.) in his left hand.

When Edmund eventually noticed Macon, sitting while his rusty old pick up truck just idled there in the street, Edmund turned, pointing his sword. "Get outta here, Gold."

But Macon only got out of the car.

"I told you to get outta here." Edmund growled through glistening white teeth.

"You don't get to tell me what to do."

Edmund, who'd always had a very soft, proud ego, much like his grandfather, dropped the figure he held down onto the road. He glared at Macon. "You _will_ do as I say."

"Have I ever?" Macon glanced at the still figure and her favorite turquoise jacket. Her hands were bound, as were her feet, with duc-tape and her forehead had a small cut that tricked blood. "I don't think you should be doing whatever you're doing."

"It doesn't concern you."

"I think it doesn't concern you either."

Edmund stepped up to Macon, unfazed by the obvious size difference. He dug the tip of his gladius into Macon's chest, so hard, blood was to be expected, but the blade never broke skin. "I'm not scared of you. You all think you can do whatever you want because your father is the Dark One. You think Melanie Lake is marrying your brother for love?" Edmund shook his head. "Fear," He sneered through pearly white teeth. "She's scared of you. I'm not. I've never been."

Macon straightened, feathers ruffled by Edmund's comments. "I'd be careful." Macon offered as calmly as he could manage. "Wisely consider what you say next."

The would-be king slashed his sword down at Macon's arm, but the blade did nothing. Edmund stumbled back. Macon glared down at the blondie. "You know something about your sword, Edmund?" He took a step forward. "I made it for your father to give to you." Another step. "And every sword or dagger or tool that I make cannot hurt me." Macon took his last step and gave a soft chuckle, his lips twitching with a smile - an identical copy of his father's. "Pretty clever, wouldn't you say?"

Only a moment later, a thunderous sound echoed across the quiet town. It shook the ground and summoned a quick fury of wind. Edmund glanced down at Macon's hand. There balanced a five foot tall hammer, made especially to fit Macon's grip and strength with Black Ironwood and a long lost, ancient metal retrieved by Ramsey on one of his many journeys. It was carved with magical runes and spells to protect and empower the beholder. Macon had named it Zidattore, from the Serbo-Croatian word _zidati_, meaning to build or construct, and the Italian _ettore_, meaning to defend and hold fast. It was not a weapon of destruction. It created, and stood as a symbol of righteousness to Macon.

For a second, and only a second, fear flashed in Edmund's blue eyes.

"I suggest you let Miss Nolan go."

Edmund glared at Macon. "Go to hell."

Every swing at Macon by Edmund was in vain, but he did it anyway, instant that he could break the curse placed upon his blade.

Macon could handle the massive hammer with one hand easily and swung it around his body expertly. It whistled with every stroke and cracked everything it met. Longer than Macon had expected, Edmund avoided and pushed against the hammer Zidattore, so, as people began to hurry into the street, pulling Eva out of harm's way and trying to understand what was happening, Macon begin to swing his hammer over and over again over his head. When he finally lowered it, Zidattore had transformed into a sword worthy of King Arthur.

Gentlemen fought with chivalry and dignity. Gentlemen fought with blades of purity and destiny. To Edmund, a gentleman was a worthy opponent. A heathen, as he saw Macon, the other Golds, and several other people in Storybrooke who he felt was standing in his family's way of power, were villains who could easily be out-witted and destroyed. But heathens fought with hammers. Gentleman fought with swords.

Macon Gold had been raised to be nothing less than a gentleman.

Now Edmund was truly scared.

Macon never got to use the sword version of Zidattore, however, because while Edmund stood in frightened awe, much like the bystanders, Eva, being _very_ much like her sister, walked up behind Edmund and hit him over the head with a shovel.

The blond haired, black clothed young man crumbled to the street at Eva's feet. Once he was completely down, she dropped the shovel on top of him, hitting his head once again. She dusted her hands and turned away, but she came back and shot her foot into Edmund's stomach for good measure, and then left for breakfast at Granny's.

Eva Nolan had completely stolen Macon's thunder and the kid couldn't have cared less, and just because it had been Eva Nolan.

He took a deep breath of awe and nodded. "Okay then." He stepped over Edmund and began to walk to his truck, just where he'd left it at the northern end of the street. He set Zidattore, once again a hammer, down in the truck bed while he dug around in his pockets for his keys.

Macon stood beside the cab, wiping himself down with a damp, dirty rag with the keys in the ignition, getting ready to go, when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

As soon as he'd turned, that someone pulled him down by the collar of his shirt and smashed her blood red lips against his. In reality, it lasted only a few seconds, but it felt like eternity to Macon. He was frozen, dumbfounded by the event that was taking place. Someone was kissing _him_? _She_ was kissing _him_? He knew it was her. She smelt like cinnamon and pears. Then she pulled away, slightly taken aback herself.

But Eva straightened, composing her usual Angelica-Huston-like cool and elegant demeanor.

"Thanks." She told Macon.

"You're welcome."

She nodded and turned to leave, but then turned back. "Do you wanna have dinner?"

"Sure." Macon could only manage a few words.

Eva turned to leave again.

"Pick you up at seven?" Macon called.

"Awesome." She called back over her shoulder. She stuck two thumbs up in the air for him to see as she hurried away.

"Good," Macon said to himself.

He got in his truck and went on upon his day, and could not stop smiling.

* * *

There has never been such a couple like Eva and Macon in Storybrooke.

* * *

Five years later, Macon woke up at the break of dawn and kissed Eva's sweet smelling hair while she slept. He positioned the blankets around her so she would still be comfortable while he was gone and then went off to get ready for work. However, when he passed the window, he froze. A sense of fear and panic began to roll in the pit of his belly.

Beside the dancing autumn leaves, an ashen figure donned in black robes strode through town and onto Castle Street.

* * *

_Stay tuned next week for part four: Albert Henry Gold_


	5. Albert Henry Gold

Part Four: Albert Henry Gold

Albert was never supposed to happen. He, like his little sister, was a happy accident. Not at all planned for or expected, but loved to the fullest nonetheless. Neither Belle or Rumpelstiltskin quite knew when he was conceived, but given his February birthday, they've always assumed it was after one of Ariel and Eric's famous beach parties during the summer.

Throughout those nine months, everything was fine. No villain came to raid the town, no arguments really ensued or devious plans. Aramis had started to kindergarten in the fall; Ramsey staid with his father at the pawn shop all day; and Macon was rolling over in his play pin and beginning to crawl. His first birthday was drawing near.

Life was good.

So nobody expected anything bad to happen or for the good to have negative repercussions. But they did, and everyone was there for the Golds this time round.

It had never happened before in Storybrooke's lifetimes, and, for in their native Enchanted Forest, a blind child was not expected to live long.

* * *

Albert Henry Gold was born on a Sunday weighing seven pounds and five ounces. He had thin wisps of goldish red hair. His eyes, once they opened, were his brothers' brown/blue. An hour after his birth, he was declared completely blind.

Rumpelstiltskin blamed it on himself. Magic always came with a price.

So early into their family career, the Golds' lives were changed.

Albie, as he was known, spent his early years with Macon, only eleven months older, and Belle in the library. They became very attached, and it was because of this that Macon did not start school on time. He staid with Albie and they were tutored by Belle and sometimes even Snow White. Together as a family, they taught him how to write by firstly doing it in his palm. As one might expect, his penmanship never became very elegant, but it was legible. The whole family learned Braille with little Albie. He was one of a kind in Storybrooke and there were times, as during his education, when that was problematic.

When he started to crawl, Belle and Rumpelstiltskin had panic attacks. For months every inch of the Gold household was cushioned. It was practically a bounce house and there was as little furniture as possible, especially when Albie began to walk. In the beginning, Macon or Aramis or Ramsey held arm and led him around, but eventually that wasn't enough because the boys were doing what boys did and Albie could not and spent the majority of their time at school. Even Belle and Rumpelstiltskin, though they spared every minute, could not devout their full attention.

The idea that Belle perhaps become a housewife crossed both of their minds, but only for a split second. Belle could barely stand maternity leave. She did not like being still for too long. At the Dark Castle, it hadn't mattered much. It was so vast and odd that she was constantly entertained, but by a Monday afternoon in Storybrooke, she'd cleared nearly the whole house and read a book.

Rumpelstiltskin still doesn't know how she does it.

If anything, though, Belle wouldn't even have to clean, because the family kept the house very tidy so that their youngest son could move around without hazard.

The idea of a seeing eye dog arose, but was quickly shot down since Albie was too young to qualify yet. They held onto the concept, perhaps until he was older. Many ideas came and went, provided by various people. Eventually, though, Albie insisted that he was fine with what he had. By this time, he'd committed the entire measure of the house down to memory and used his long cane to venture around town. He had amazing senses (other than sight, of course) and could hear things from miles away. But he still was no Daredevil.

One day, he left home to run an errand alone while no one was paying attention. Like anybody, Albert could quickly become annoyed when his family constantly hovered over him and treated him like he was a piece of china. And when he says he's "running an errand" he means he's going to the Sneezy's pharmacy on the other side of town for a Mars chocolate bar and a soda. This was the first time he'd every attempted the trek alone and so, by the time he'd finished his snack, it was dark and the streets were deserted.

Now, one might consider that a good thing for Albie. No one would be in his way and he could potentially get home quicker. But it made the world completely different to the one that Albie knew. He'd been out at night on several occasions, when the town was being evacuated or in instances like that, but always with family or friends. Someone who could guide him. He'd never traveled the night alone.

There were no smells to tell him he was passing the bakery or loud noises to tell him he was at Granny's. No one honked horns or screamed out of windows at the schoolhouse. No children laughed and cried at the park. Albie was, in every way, senseless to what he usually knew.

To make it worse, a storm - the very one everyone in Storybrooke had been talking about for a week- began.

And because he was a proud Gold, Albert wouldn't let that stop him.

Not even when he tripped over a knee height blockade in the middle of the sidewalk. It barked at him and licked his scratched up face. Albie recognized the sounds it made. It'd been a stray dog who'd been stalking him for the last couple of weeks. It had even hung out beside Albie when he was at the pharmacy.

"What was that for?" The nine year old tried not to cry. The stray prodded at him, rubbing it's nose beneath him and trying to lift him up. "Go away!" Albie pushed him away.

The stray whined, pulling at his clothes. When Albert wouldn't move, it left for a moment, and when it came back, it dropped Albie's long cane on his back. It barked encouragingly.

Aching, Albie got onto his knees and then his feet. The whole time, the stray kept close to his side, almost attaching itself to his leg. Albie scanned the area in front of him with his cane. He stood on a corner and when he moved towards the street, the stray barked. When he did not listen, it stood in front of him again. "Well, what am I supposed to do?"

The stray left his side, filling Albie with a sense of dread, but it only lasted for a second because then his cane lifted from the floor and began to pull him. The stray barked about three feet away, approximately the length of his long cane. Without further ado, something continued to pull his cane, which he would not let go of, left and right and around. Sometimes it would stop and then continue to pull. Whenever it did, the stray would bark, like as a warning.

Finally, his cane dropped. The stray gave a bark, again, as a warning, and Albie heard his claws scratch against some solids before Albie heard the door bell. Only a moment later did he recognize the sound of a door opening and then his mother crying, "Albie!"

Belle hurried from the door way and down the front porch to where her son stood alone in the rain on the walkway. Ramsey followed after while their little sister stood in the door way. The anxious mother pulled Albert tightly into her chest and then feverishly began to examine her son. "Are you all right? Are you hurt? What happened? Where did you go?"

"Puppy!" The little girl pointed out. She was too young to understand what was or had been going on, but the sight of a dog was like a fairytale. She sat down next to the stray and stroked his golden fur. He was wet and smelled, but he licked at her rosy face and snuggled up closer to her. The stray had a collar hanging loosely around his neck. "Ramsey, what does this say?"

The older brother kneeled down beside the pair. "Aster," He read. Ramsey, for all he was worth, could not help smiling and had even less strength to hold back the tears that were flooding his eyes. "Good boy. Oh, you're such a good boy! You did your job. Thank you for doing your job." The cleanliest of them all abandoned all care and hugged the soaking dog.

"What do you mean?" Albie demanded, ignoring his mother. "What did you do, Ramsey?"

"Whatever he did, he can explain inside. Come on inside. I have to call your father and brother."

"Where are they?"  
"They went out looking for you, mister." Belle tried to sound mad, but failed. She melted into a pile of putty again and held her baby close. "Oh, I'm just happy you're all right."

Once everyone was home and dried off (including Aster) Albie stomped down the stairs and turned to the direction he'd last heard his elder brother speak. "What do you mean the dog did his job? What did you do, Ramsey?"

"Does it really matter, Albie? You made it home with his help." Macon tried to mediate.

"Yes. It does." The boy snapped.

"You didn't qualify for a seeing eye dog. You won't until you're eighteen, and I knew how much you were looking forward to having a friend. So...I found one."

"And how _exactly_ did you 'find one'?" Rumpelstiltskin asked, walking in from the kitchen.

"It wasn't illegal or magical, I promise. I looked up dogs who'd gone through the training and were looking for homes. The schools elaborate that the two must connect and work together for a series of months. I've done everything I could to find the right dog. I gave up with Aster. He seemed the most likely to connect with you, but as soon as I brought him into Storybrooke, the stupid dog bolted! I hadn't seen him in months. And then...today..."

"He's been following me for weeks."

"He must have realized you were blind." Macon put in. He slipped down from the couch and sat down beside his sleeping sister and Aster, who'd found a comfortable spot resting against the littlest Gold, with his head on her back. Macon petted the soft golden retriever. "You're a smart dog, aren't you?"

"You couldn't trust me?" Albie said through unnoticed tears. He felt betrayed. Here they were, and they were still treating him like he was a baby.

"I didn't want you to get hurt."

"Why would you care!"

"I'm your brother, Albie!"

"You've never shown a level of concern before!"

"Maybe I'm learning. You know, I don't understand what you're so mad about. He helped you! Aster saved you!"

"I would've gotten home one way or another!"

"In a body bag!" Ramsey exclaimed. Albie went silent, taken aback. Ramsey shook his head. "You don't know what it's like during a storm. You hear it and feel it, but it's pitch black, Albie. Everyone might as well be blind and if anyone had hit you...they wouldn't have known or kept going. You are cocky and ignorant. We don't think any less of you because of your blindness and we've all changed our lives to help yours be easier. Have you ever thought about doing the same? Do you know how scared Mama and Papa were when they realized you were gone? Can you fathom how many times that would've been multiplied had Aster not found you?" Ramsey's cry echoed through the large house. "Did you ever think about them before you left, before you started to walk home in a storm?"

Albie remained silent. He heard Ramsey march up to him. He cradled the side of Albie's face, fingers tangled in his hair and thumb rubbing against his temple. The second eldest brother said nothing for a long moment. Then, finally, he kissed Albie on the forehead and left for his room.

For a series of days after, Albie heard nothing from Ramsey, though he knew he was there. Aster continued to stay by his side, and he did not need to use his cane as much while in town with Belle or Rumpel. No one spoke about what Albert had done, which the boy sensed frustrated his older brother considerably more. The incident was not forgotten, but it was never spoken of either. It just lingered in the back of people's minds and froze them whenever Albie went out on his own.

* * *

Once he got old enough, Albert went to work at the Game of Thorns floral shop. Maurice had gotten older and weaker, so his grandson, who'd always had a love for flowers, took over and kept it running smoothly and crime free. As soon as Albie took responsibility, the store's debt was mysteriously paid off and the young man never encountered one hired goon/ex-Black Knight. Everyone knew why, but his father continual denied it the implications.

He was diligent in his work. There were only two employees: himself and a young girl who worked after school and on Saturdays. He did most of the work, but she kept everything in order, and when she could not work, Albie hired his little sister as a part-time employee. Meaning that whenever he needed help or she wanted to, she could earn a couple of bucks at the end of the week.

Being the only flower shop in the entire town was like being Granny's diner. Everything that happened in Storybrooke went through Albert's shop. Whenever someone died, people called to send condolence flowers. Whenever someone was getting married, Albie and the girl, Donna, was her name, had their hands full and often didn't stop moving until the vows were all said and done. If people were dating, they were bound to send flowers. Every so often, secret admirers came in and would send out single, long-stemmed roses, but this was rare, even on Valentine's. The only real person who bought roses was Albie's father, Rumpelstiltskin, for his wife on her birthday or anniversary; sometimes to just to make her day, and sometimes for his daughter.

These secret admirers were always dull and assumed that because Albie was blind, he would not be able to spout their hearts' desires. Donna was still young and didn't know many people in town other than family and local authorities, but Albie always recognized voices.

This ended up screwing a few people over, because it was quickly learned that Albie was as cocky and clever as, not Rumpelstiltskin, but the infamous Mr. Gold.

One would assume that this would make people a bit smarter when they came in to request flowers, but few people learned and those idiots kept Albie and Donna on top of business.

* * *

Albie had always insisted he would be a _completely_ different person had he or if he would ever be able to see. Many people scoffed at his statement, thinking, "Of course he would be." But they did not entirely understand Albie's meaning. Many times his father and old brothers offered to reverse the birth defect, but the youngest boy would have life no other way.

He was content being modest (though it did not always see that way.) and prided himself on being immune to women, unlike his brothers, nephew, and friends.

His little sister, with all her curiosity, one day asked Albie how he could then ever be in love.

The wise young man replied, "I could never fall in love with a woman because because I don't know what a woman, as all of you think of them, is. No, lil' bit. I will fall in love with a blanket of skin and a voice. You say love at first sight. I say love at first note."

Belle's daughter fell in love with her brother's lovely idea and often asked him to repeat it, so many times that she had it committed to memory. It was the way Albert said, though. He close his already sightless eyes and pulled his pink lips into a pleasant little grin, full of warmth as dream. Albie was so much like his mother, it almost hurt.

To the daughter of Rumpelstiltskin, that was the expression of love.

And it wasn't long before Albie was looking like that at every note.

* * *

Before one can understand how the couple became such, one must first understand the not-so-matured-life of Mary Plummer.

For as long as anyone can remember, Mary had been a absolute picture of beauty. She was born with copper colored hair that glistened in the sunlight and turned a beautiful ruby when wet. She had sparkling grey eyes, ones both piercing and soft at the same time. She had a long, slender hourglass figure; delicate hands and small, flat feet, all covered in fair, creamy skin.

Her father was drunk and her mother was a maid.

When teachers saw the hand prints on her gentle wrists, the looked away. When they noticed she did not laugh because it hurt to much, they silenced the other students. All they achieved was keeping her schoolyard abuses to a minimum, as much as possible.

Throughout her early years, Mary became well acquainted with Sheriff Nolan and Deputy Swan. Her dream was to be a ballerina, and she shared such dreams with Emma whenever the blond would take the little girl out for ice cream while her mother was working to pay the rent and her father in the pin, sobering up. Emma became Mary's closest confidant, but those bonds were shattered while Mary was nine and a half, when her parents died driving home during the same storm Aster had found Albie in.

She was tossed around foster homes and soon fell into the wrong crowds. Little Mary who'd wanted to be ballerina covered her face in dark makeup and ventured around the town in the middle of the night, inviting relationships with all kinds of different people. She slept during her classes and turned against every moral she'd lived by when her parents had been alive.

One day, when she was fifteen, another student walked into their math class after school while their teacher was offering to change Mary's grade for special favors. All the other student saw was Mary on top of a desk, legs spread, and pulling at the teacher's shirt.

They did not hear her protest or see her put his clothes back on as he took them off. They left before they could see her struggle to gain her freedom. They did not hear her cries when he held her and took advantage of her.

By the time that he let her go, whatever shred of dignity and credibility she'd had walking into that classroom had been erased by the math teacher and the students had an almost systematic gossip group-text that could spread anything through the high school like wildfire.

Mary Plummer had become the knew town whore. People looked at her as they'd looked at Lacy French.

Rumpelstiltskin had nothing to say about the girl.

Belle had been in that position herself, and though looked down upon it, held sympathy for the child.

The Gold children held a similar position as their parents and so kept whatever opinion they had to themselves.

Albert did not go to school like the rest of his siblings and so only knew as much about Mary as his family could explain, which were vague details.

But whatever they told him did stop him from withholding a job interview the summer of their sixteenth year. Donna was planning on doing sports in her upcoming high school career, but would still work on the weekends. This put Albie in need of another employee who could take over Donna's position during the afternoons.

The interview was held in the afternoon, just after lunch, so sandwich paper was folded nearly in the corner of the table where the three of them sat and bags of chips and bottles of soda were being gradually consumed. Aster knawed at a sandwich of his own beneath the table.

Donna scowled at the young woman who sat across the table, having heard of her through her friends' older brothers and , and she felt somewhat jealous of whomever Albie would choose to take up her position. She'd been doing it for years and was best friends with her employer.

Mary had wiped away her makeup and sat in a pair of jeans, flip-flops and a turquoise tank-top with a linen cardigan.

Albie knew nothing of the woman before him and continued to smile pleasantly. He leaned back and allowed Donna to ask the questions, as she had been.

"Why should we hire you? We've had far more qualified and dignified people walk in here." Donna asked, contempt in her voice for the person she'd never met before then.

Mary flinched. "I'm a hard working and I'm not doing any sports this year or next. I need the money and would do nothing to jeopardize that. I'd work faithfully. I can a multitude of jobs - clean, manage books, distribute the flowers…"

Albie froze at the sound of Mary's voice. It was beautiful, like a melody. That was one of the few reasons he'd hired Donna in the first place - she'd had a pleasant voice and when you had to deal with someone on a daily basis and all you knew were their sounds, voices are very important. Not that he'd ever tell her. She'd take shame in the compliment.

"Do you have any questions, Albie?" Donna asked. She'd made up her mind, and Mary knew that. Her tried not to slump her shoulders in disappointment.

"Do you sing, Miss Plummer?"

Mary was taken aback by the question. Albie Gold was well-known for his shop and disability. It had been a long shot even thinking about applying to a Gold owned shop, but it was Mary's last resort. Many people thought him a bit out of it, and Mary was starting to understand why. He grinned at her like a fool, leaning back on the legs of his chair and petting his dog underfoot.

"A bit yes. I prefer dancing, though."

"How much do you know about flowers?"

"I have to admit, not much."

"But you say you can manage books and clean?"

"I helped my mom growing up. She did the bills and when I didn't have school, I had to go to work with her."

"What was your mother in the Enchanted Forest?" Everyone knew her father had been the local drunk and lumberjack.

Math blushed nearly as red as her hair. "She was a simple servant. In the Marshlands." A servant to Belle and Maurice. And here her daughter was, asking to work for their kin.

Albie tried not flinch at the series of events.

It was silent a moment, only the birds' chirping coming through the window from the garden.

Finally, Albie said, "Donna, grab that Ag encyclopedia I taught you with. I think Miss Plummer would greatly appreciate getting to know her new job better."

Mary beamed. "You mean it?"

"Yes I do. You can start tomorrow if you'd like."

"Oh, yes, sir! Thank you so much, Mr. Gold!"

"Albie, please. You're older than I am."

Mary blushed. "Thank you."

"Thank _you_, Miss Plummer."

Donna walked up and begrudgingly held out a dusty old volume to Mary. "Read up. Your new life is all in there, plus cliff notes."

"Donna will be helping you learn the reigns before she starts water polo on the fall." Albie explained.

Donna glared at Albie, but he was unaffected, and so gave Mary a plastic smile. "See you tomorrow then."

* * *

She did sing.

Well, she hummed, but they were beautiful melodies Albie used his loving face to listen to them. He remembered their tune - they were lullabies and hymns from the Enchanted Forests. The very ones Belle had once sung to her children when they were younger. He loved to sit in a corner when she didn't know he was there and just listen her.

He loved the sound of her feet too. When she danced, they made luxurious sounds as they slid across the cold concrete floor. Again, when she thought she was alone, she would put on old dances for the flowers. Some, he knew, were said to be magical. His sister would dance in hopes of casting a spell. Albie often asked her which each one meant and what they were used specifically for.

His little sister explained that the very ones Mary were dancing (she demonstrated, so Albie could recognize the sounds of feet and hands, but though the pair danced the same ritual, Mary's was still sweeter to Albie.) were especially used to bring good luck, prosperity, good harvests, and health. One, though, the little sister found curious. Priestesses had once used it to keep evil doers away.

"I wonder who she's so eager to keep at bay."

Donna and Mary became the best of friends and Albie quickly noticed that Mary was very stiff and shy around men, especially those who marveled at her beauty, despite the reputation Storybrooke held for her poor heart. Even after a few months of working together, she still had not warmed entirely up to Albie.

After awhile, she did stop calling Albie Mr. Gold, (which was a blessing to the kid.) but she still did not call him Albie. To Mary, he was Albert and only so. She would never tell him why, but Albert did not press to harshly.

* * *

One day, almost a year after Mary had been hired, Albert came in late to work and Albert was never late. To anything. At all. By the time that he did show up, she was panicking, shuffling through papers to find Mr. and Mrs. Gold's number, wondering what awful thing could've happened to her sweet employer. When he walked in, Aster by his side, and smiling as if it was any other day, she was furious.

"Where have you been! What have you done! Don't you dare ever scare me like again, Albert Gold! I didn't know where you were, what had happened! I was going to have the National Guard on your ass!" Once she was done with her ranting, she collapsed in a heap, sobbing her pretty eyes out.

Albert hurried to her side. Aster sat behind them, giving them their space. Albert couldn't help but laughing at seeing the girl so stressed out over him. He cradled her head in his shoulder and petted her hair. It smelt like peaches. This was the closest they'd ever gotten.

"Shh, shh." He hushed. "Everything's all right." He told her reassuringly with a smile. "Please don't cry, Mary. All's well."

"Where were you?" She sniffed.

"Oh, it was nothing." He chuckled. "It's quite silly, actually."

"Tell me and then I'll forgive you for scaring me."

"Well… I actually have to _show_ you."

Mary's immediately began to wonder. There were many things that Albert asked her opinion of, especially whenever he'd done something on his accord. Sometimes it scared her - most of the time it scared her - sometimes it was absolutely fascinating.

They picked each other up from the dirty ground, she dusted them off and then stood there, waiting for him to direct her.

But instead, he lifted his hands in a familiar position. She froze and when she would not come to after several minutes, he placed her hands for her. On his right shoulder and delicately in his left palm.

There was no music; no hum or beat to jig at. It was a simple dance, meant for nothing more than beauty and intimacy in every world they knew of.

It was Albert that moved her in the beginning, but then her feet would not drag lifelessly. When Mary did unfreeze, she realized her heart was pounding. And for the first time, she realized just how beautiful she thought Albert was.

She was tall to begin with, but his eyes were just above the top of her head. His skin was golden (something that she saw in all the Gold children and one of the few things they'd inherited from the Frontlands.) stretched over a lanky build and narrow face. He had thick, collar length, light brown hair. Mary caressed it with her fingertips. It was soft, like his hands. He smelt of glorious flowers and the bakery - like sweet cakes and baking yeast.

"May I see you?" Albert suddenly whispered.

Mary tried not to think of when other people had asked her those words. She nodded then remembered. "Yes," Her voice was hoarse and she blushed at the unappealing sound, but Albert did not hesitate.

They continued to rock, back and forth, feet mindlessly shifting in a circle in the back room of the shop. Hours could've passed and neither would've noticed. Thousands of customers could've come and slapped on the counter bell and they wouldn't have heard beyond their heart's pounding in their ears. Keeping his hand on her waist, he moved her second hand and put it on his free shoulder. Then his fingertips began to delicately paint air across her soft skin. She closed her eyes and sighed at his soft touch. His thumb crossed her dry lips.

Once his fingers had memorized every inch of her face, he laid his hand back on her waist and rested the side of his face against hers.

"Thank you,"

"You're welcome."

"I like dancing." Albert laughed.

So did Mary and the act caused plump tears to spill from the corners of her eyes. It had been a long time since anyone had showed her such tenderness.

* * *

The stares did not end; the whispers did not cease. On the contrary, they increased and were as persistent as ever when Albert Gold walked with the town harlot on his arm. In the beginning, Mary kept her chin down, eyes on the sidewalk, as she'd always done while Albert stood tall, chin high and eyes, though useless, straight forward. He smiled all the time, even brighter than before, and people hissed about why. Then, over time, Mary grew as confident as her partner and never walked through town without a smile.

When the family met Mary, every word or sight that they'd come across over the years instantly vanished and the Golds (including Melody and baby Dora) - plus Igor and Donna - fell head over heels for the young woman. All her life, Mary had never known such compassion and welcome. She cooked with Belle and Melody, who soon became her closest confidants along with Donna. She discussed business with Rumpelstiltskin and Aramis, because Albert knew nothing about his store beyond the flowers. She was fascinated by Macon's inventions and grinned more brightly than ever beside Ramsey while they made the beautiful month-old Dora Olivia laugh and grab her feet. She smiled adoringly at the little sister and braided friendship bracelets with her. She had one for each of her sisters. She'd even made one for Dora.

She was almost immediately welcomed into the family.

And was brought even deeper into their protective confinements when she explained to Belle what had happened to her one night in a moment of weakness.

The next morning, Rumpelstiltskin got a call from the deputy:

"Uh…Mr. Gold?"

"Good morning, Neal. How can I help you?"

"Well…actually…I'm calling to tell you that Mrs. Gold's been arrested."

Rumpelstiltskin froze. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah…She stormed into the high school and started to beat Mr. Evans with a ruler."

"Evans? The math teacher?" Rumpelstiltskin took a moment to think. His youngest child was still in middle school. As far as he could recall, none of his older children or grandson had ever had Evans for a teacher. And his granddaughter was still too young. But Evans reputation was infamous. Though none of his children had had him, they had nothing very nice to say. Belle had always hushed them, but they both knew well that Evans was a cousin of the once Sheriff of Nottingham. They both had similar hobbies, though, Evans had always seemed to be more dialed down then his rabbit cousin.

"Can you come down here? I…I don't really know what to do, sir."

Rumpelstiltskin didn't have to use his imagination to understand Neal's predicament. Arresting Belle must've been like the boy arresting his own mother.

"Yes. Yes. I'll be right down."

Belle would not speak, not even to Rumpelstiltskin, who sat outside her cell all day, just waiting for her to say something. It was like one of their arguments, and though Rumpelstiltskin kept his usual stoic appearance up, he was so confused about what was going on, it unnerved him.

Belle did not speak until Mary appeared in the station, and she'd only known about the incident because Melody had called, asking if Belle had something to Mary the night before while they were talking.

The mother looked at the young woman with nothing but sympathy and longed to be able to hold her as she did her own children and block out the rest of the world from those copper covered ears.

"Mary?" Rumpelstiltskin stood. "Is everything all right?"

The redhead did not speak. She could not. She did not know whether to be upset with Belle for now no doubt unleashing her secret; grateful for unburdening her of it; or scared. Scared that this new knowledge would turn her newfound family away. Most of all, scared that it would push Albert away.

But there was no need for fear, because the Sheriff got another call before either Mary or Belle could say anything.

"I need an ambulance at the high school." Neal's voice cracked through the walkie-talkie. This time, there was no hesitation or confusion in his voice. It was…solemn.

"What happened?" David asked.

There was a pause and for those few seconds, everyone in the station held their breath. "Albie attacked Mr. Evans."

Mary was out the door before David could look up.

* * *

The scene was no pleasant. In the dark of night, the empty classroom looked like a set ready for a ghost story and the rectangular windows that usually streamed in warm sunbeams now allowed the silver touch of the moon to cross the floor and wall. Mr. Evans lay shivering and whimpering on the cold linoleum floor in the light. Albert sat in the corner, breathing heavily, glaring at the ground. He looked as if he was a fallen angel.

His long cane lay between the two, no longer white.

When Mary had seen Aster tied up outside on the bicycle rails, barking and pulling at his leash in vain attempts to save his master from harm, she immediately knew something was wrong. Albert had gone there for a specific purpose and he'd not wanted his closest friend to get in the way of that.

Neal stood in the door way, quiet and still, eyes casted down, as though in shame. He did not saw a word, only looked up when Mary came jogging down the hall and then freeze in the threshold of the room. She had not been in there since that day. She had not looked at the number on it's door whenever she passed through the halls. She'd tried desperately to block any part of those moments out and she'd almost done it. But now - there - it all came flooding back.

She felt like she was going to puke.

Neal had been stopped by a bystander who'd heard a dog's wild barking from a block away. When he'd recognized Aster, the prince dashed in, weapon drawn, and had come upon an event eerily similar to that his sister had come across, oh so many years ago, before his birth. Before he was thought. Before Regina's curse was broken.

"Stop. Albie, stop." the prince said, grapping Albert's arm as it pulled back for momentum.

The young man was filled with rage. Maybe not with that of a lost love, but with that of a broken heart. Because his and Mary's were one and her heart had been broken for some time.

And whatever healing it had begun to do by his side dwindled. Albert was very aware of this. He felt it. He saw it. Within his true love and himself. But it had had to be done. It was unforgivable, but Albert would never regret doing it.

Mary slowly walked over to the corner he was hidden in, eyes down cast so as not to see Evans's desk. When she made it to Albert's feet, she kneeled down and crawled into his side. He slipped his arm around her shoulders and brought her closer into his chest. She held onto his shirt and closed her eyes. She wanted to be blind for awhile like her partner. She smelt their flowers on him and freshly kneaded yeast. They listened as the paramedics took Mr. Evans off and did not move until Emma and Neal took them home.

From then on, they were nearly inseparable.

Three years later, news came to the engaged couple through a sobbing Dora that a nightmare had come to town and it was after the little girl's auntie.


	6. Courses

Rumpelstiltskin fell back, free of the Author's spell. He blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. He looked around him. The sun still hung in the same place in they sky behind the trees. The crackling leaves still gently rolled across the ground by her feet. Not a moment had passed since she'd casted her enchantment. Her chair was gone, so now she stood, looking down on him. She held her hands clasped behind her back and face analytical.

"Do you see what I mean?" Her voice sounded wise, much older beyond her years.

Thousands of emotions coursed through Rumpelstiltskin, who, a moment ago, had been as cool and indifferent as ever, even despite seeing his wife walk amongst town, hand in hand with a thief. Tears welled in his eyes. His hands clenched in anger and those who would harm his family. Air fell quickly from his lips in exhaustion and suspense. He'd lived for twenty-five years - four different lives - in only a handful of seconds.

Yet still, a part of him felt empty.

His chocolate brown eyes were red and soft when they looked up at the Author. "What of my girl?" His voice was hoarse. His tongue tasted like sandpaper. His throat dry as though he'd gone days without liquids. He scrambled to his feet, a father's instincts clamoring into action.

The Author shrugged. "Her story has yet to be told." A simple, vague answer that the Author had surely rehearsed many times because Rumpelstiltskin almost believed it. But something danced in her eyes.

Her odd, brown/blue eyes.

Rumpelstiltskin's stomach clenched.

The Author's pink lips twitched with a knowing smile.

"I hope this has been a enlightening lesson, Dark One."

The soon-to-be father could not summon a word. He could not take his eyes off of the Author.

She nodded in understanding and then began to walk off deeper into the woods.

"People are looking for you!" Rumpelstiltskin called out. He hoped she would turn, just so he could try and remember as much of her as she could, but he found that, with every step she took away from him, her features dwindled behind his eyes.

"I know!" Her voice rang. She did not stop. "They'll find me eventually, now won't they?"

* * *

Rumpelstiltskin saved Belle from Cruella later that day, as the sun began to hide behind the trees.

The future hung vividly in his mind, but he'd long forgotten whatever features the Author had beheld.

He was walking towards the pawn shop, when, suddenly something in the window of store caught his eye. The wizard doubled back and smiled at it. Without a second's hesitation, he went inside and bought the piece.

It was a simple teddy bear, no bigger than his hand. It was brown with a fuzzy belly, pink nose and smile. An appropriate keepsake for a child. But he would not give it to Aramis, later in the year.

Nor Ramsey, or Macon, or Albert. Over the course of the next ten years, he always had it nearby. Most of the time it sat at the chest at the end of he and Belle's bed, but when memories drew him, he would hold it and caress it. When Albert turned three, he feared he would never be able to give it to it's intended owner.

She came though, and when she did, they called her Rose.

* * *

_Not done quite yet. Stay tuned next week._


End file.
